Muggleborn
by Jetsir
Summary: I am a muggle. My son is not. I fear I am losing my little boy to a world that I can never be a part of.


**Muggleborn**

**By Jetsir**

I'm a muggle... such an odd term, really. I nearly blew a gasket when my son called me that, thinking it was something vulgar.

No, muggle is not a nasty word, of this I am now certain, it's merely a term used to describe non-magical people.

So yes, I am a muggle, as is my husband, and his parents, and my parents, and so on and so forth. We are all muggles.

My son isn't.

A wizard in my family. My own little Robbie, no less. Who would've thought? For a woman who grew up only knowing magic as the stuff of fairy tales and tricks played with mirrors, it certainly came as a shock to me. Wizards were real, and they practically had their own world that coincided and blended with ours. They had their own government, their own banks, and their own schools.

And my son would be going to one of those schools. Hogwarts, in fact. I found myself questioning the odd name of the place, but found it rather hard to complain with it being the top school of its kind, and my little boy was so excited that I just didn't have the heart to voice my doubts.

Let me tell you, it was quite the adventure to shop for school supplies that first time in Diagon Alley.

We luckily had a guide, the same wizard who had shown up on our doorstep with the Hogwarts invitation and the bombshell of our son being a wizard, but that still didn't prevent the total shock of entering a new world. All types of stores, all types of items, all types of people. It was too much for me to comprehend in one time.

Robbie was practically bouncing off of the walls with excitement. His face was lit up with such curiosity and wonder that I could feel my heart melt at the sight. Naturally a quiet boy, this behavior in my son was only displayed every once in a little while.

Once the money was exchanged and the supplies were bought (including a tawny owl that he somehow convinced us to buy him), we went home. A couple of months later, the time came. It was time to drop Robbie off at Kings Cross Station.

We looked like fools trying to find Platform 9 ¾. We fortunately ran into a kind wizard family that showed us where it was and directed Robbie on how to get through the magical barrier. Sadly, being muggles, we weren't able to pass through to the other side ourselves, so my husband and I said our goodbyes there.

I had my eyes closed when my son took off running towards the seemingly solid wall at full speed, but my husband said it was the most astounding thing he'd ever seen.

Thus began my little Robbie's first year at Hogwarts.

The first year was full of letters sent by owl, exciting tales of new spells learned, and many quirked eyebrows of confusion from myself and my husband, soon followed by befuddled smiles. Robbie was apparently sorted into a school house by the name of Ravenclaw and Quidditch, whatever that was, was the greatest thing in the world and possibly the entire universe.

The first year breezed by and soon it was on to the second year, and then the third...

It was then that I realized that I was starting to drift away from my little Robbie. That I realized that I was losing my little boy.

It was more than the average parent/child generation gap. It was a culture gap of unfathomable proportions.

I would walk into his room during the summer and see him struggling with work that his professors gave him for over the holiday and I couldn't do a thing to help him. My knowledge of calculus couldn't help him with arithmancy. Chemistry didn't do anything for potions. The only class that I could help him with was Muggle Studies, but he had no problems with that class for obvious reasons.

He would go on and on about different Quidditch heroes that came from his school and all of a sudden my several athletic trophies and medals from my school days began to look like nothing but knick-knacks gathering dust.

We were in two different worlds, and I just didn't know how to connect with him.

When he turned seventeen during the summer before his seventh year, Robbie could finally use magic out of school legally. To celebrate, he put out the candles on his birthday cake with his wand.

There was something about that single action that made me unbearably sad. It was as if with the flick of his wand he wasn't just blowing the flames away, he was blowing away his old life. A life that included muggles. A life that included me.

It was at this time that I began to hold onto the old photo albums like lifelines. I started to yearn for the times that the most magical thing in the world was Mummy and Mummy alone. Mummy could do anything. Conquer any obstacle. Make anything happen. Because Mummy was magic.

I knew I was being ridiculous about the whole thing. I knew little (well, not so little anymore) Robbie loved me. I just couldn't help but think that the wizarding world was something I could never compete with. That he would no longer need me anymore. That he would forget me as he moved on with life as a wizard.

The seventh year came and went. Robbie got a job at Flourish & Blotts, the store that sells all of the textbooks for Hogwarts students along with other wizard related literature. He once jokingly told me that he spent more time reading on the job than selling books. With the money he had, he got a small apartment, in an area that was conveniently close to his job. For a while, he was so busy with work that he barely had time to write a proper weekly owl.

I was beginning to think that my fears were just. I really was losing my little Robbie to this magical world.

It was then that something changed in the most surprising of ways.

Robbie published his own book on muggle habits and customs and their parallels with the wizarding world. It was an instant success, applauded by all critics. Hogwarts even began using it as a primary book for its Muggle Studies class.

Within months after being published, Robbie got a bigger place closer to home. I wondered how he would be able to make it to work on time being so far away (he still chose to work at the book store). When I asked him he simply explained that he would floo to work and that it would be fine.

He began to come over almost 3 times a week, even more if he had the time. He, my husband and I would sit together and talk for hours. He'd tell us everything about his job, how his life was going, even about the lovely lady that started working at Madam Malkin's that he really hoped he'd get the chance to talk to.

During his visits, Robbie would also use magic around the house. If he saw that there was a lot of dishes to be done, he'd cast a charm that would clean the dishes in a blink of an eye. If his father lost his glasses, he'd cast a locating spell. He once even conjured a meal for us all to enjoy. My husband and I were very appreciative of his help.

Probably the most I enjoyed about Robbie's visits was when he asked me for advice, which was an occasion that happened surprisingly frequently. Whether it was because of a stain in his shirt that the cleaning charm just couldn't get out or what kinds of flowers would be appropriate for a first date, if any flower at all (he'd finally asked that girl from Madam Malkin's to dinner). The way he valued my opinion and advice made my heart swell. Once again, Mummy was magic, if only to use her powers to get a stain out of a shirt.

Years passed, and things were improving all the more.

Robbie married the girl from the robes shop and eventually fathered a beautiful baby girl. He named the girl Annette, after myself.

When he had first told me the name he had chosen for my grandchild, I finally realized what I should have a long time ago. This world could never take my little Robbie away from me. There was a way for it to exist and for me to exist in it with him, magical powers or not. My little Robbie loved me and would never forget me. No matter where life took him, I would always be able to come along for the ride and he would always welcome me.

Do I regret letting him attend Hogwarts all those years ago? Sending him to a place so different from the world he was used to? The world I was used to?

No. Not at all.

Even though for a while it made us seem like we were worlds apart, this world has given him success, love and happiness.

In the end, this is all a good mother wants for her little boy.

_**A/N:**__ I just wondered... for muggleborn wizards, how does attending Hogwarts and going on to become full grown wizards with wizard jobs affect their relationship with their muggle parents over the years? This doesn't take place during a specific time in the series. _


End file.
